"We have been considering the advisability of sending you to school. You are nearly sixteen, and have been educated at home all your life, and now that Fraulein cannot return I feel strongly that it would be for your good to spend a couple of years at school among girls of your own age. Your mother naturally dreads the parting, and fears that you would be unhappy, but Harold thinks that you would enjoy the experience. What is your own impression? Do you dislike the idea, or feel inclined towards it?" Rhoda meditated, and her mother watched her with wistful eyes. At the first mention of the word "school" the girl had started with surprise, and her eyes had looked wide and puzzled, but now as she stood deliberating, it was not dismay, but rather pleasure and excitement, that showed in her face. The eyes gleamed complacently, the dimple dipped, the fair head tilted itself, and Rhoda said slowly-- "I think I should--_like_ it! It would be a--change!" Alas for Mrs Chester, and alas for every mother in that sharp moment when she realises that the nestling which she has been keeping so safe and warm is already beginning to find the nest too narrow for its ambitions, and is longing to fly away into the big, wide world! Two salt tears splashed on to the satin gown, but no one saw them, for the girl was engrossed in her own feelings, while Mr Chester was saying brightly-- "That's my brave girl! I knew you would be no coward." Harold watched his sister with mingled pity and amusement. "They'll take it out of her! They'll take it out of her! Poor little Ro! Won't she hate it, and won't it do her good!" he said to himself, shrewdly. "And, after the first, I shouldn't wonder if she became a prime favourite!" Rhoda seated herself on a crimson plush chair, and folded her hands on her knees, in an attitude of expectation. She was an impetuous young person, and could brook no delay when once her interest was aroused. School having been mentioned as a possibility of the future, it became imperative to settle the matter off-hand. Which school? When? Who would take her? What would she have to buy? What were the rules? When were the holidays? How long would they be? Where would she spend them?--One question succeeded another in breathless succession, making Mr Chester smile with indulgent amusement. "My dear child, how can I tell? So far it is only a suggestion. Nothing is settled. We have not even thought of one school before another--" "If she goes at all, I should like her to go to Miss Moorby's, at Bournemouth," said Mrs Chester quickly. "She only takes ten girls, and I'm told it is just like a home--hot bottles in all the beds, and beef- tea at eleven--"